Focus of John 6:1-21
We just finished a week of Vacation Bible School. My very first as a pastor. It was wonderful and we all had a great time. And I am exhausted. I joked on social media that I would take Holy Week anytime over VBS. The level of intensity and energy needed is great in either one, but I think VBS wins because it is in summer, at the end of the day, and I am already worn out by the heat before we even began each evening. It was wonderful and it was exhausting. Some activities give us energy, some take it- and as wonderful and exciting as VBS was, as the days passed, even the children began to flag with energy.
We were all tired. In fact, I would say, my favorite part of each day was the end, when the children would lay here on the floor, sprawled out like puppies and we would talk about the day. We would share our stories of what mattered, what we learned, and hear about how God made a good creation meant to work together for everyone. It was a moment of respite, of stillness and quiet and peace. And then we had to get up and get moving again, to head home and get baths and pjs and bed. But for a moment we stopped. And in that moment we focused again on the one thing that refreshes and nourishes us: Jesus.
Life seems to go like that. Waves of energy and exhaustion. Moments of stopping and going. Sometimes the waves of life feel as though they are lifting us up and floating us along, in others it feels as though they are tormenting us and we cannot seem to catch our breath in between. Horatio Spafford knew this all too well. He was a successful businessman with a wife, Anna, and five children. Before long, the waves of life took their toll. Their young son died of pneumonia and in that same year, much of their business was lost in the great Chicago fire. A short time later Horatio decided to take the family to Europe- a chance to breathe and rest. He placed Anna and their daughters on the Ville du Harve and at last minute, he was delayed to tackle Chicago zoning issues during rebuilding. He planned to join them on a later ship.
Mid-voyage, the Ville du Harve collided with a powerful, iron-hulled Scottish ship, the Loch Earn and within 13 minutes, the Ville du Harve slipped beneath the dark waters of the Atlantic. Anna was spotted clinging to a piece of floating wreckage and was rescued, but her daughters were lost to the cold ocean depths. Once on land again, she wired her husband, “Saved alone, what shall I do?” Horatio booked passage on the next available ship. Midway the captain called to him and explained that they were now about the place the Ville du Harve went down. Wracked with grief, he began to write. Today, his words penned in the moments of great waves of life crashing in on him are some of our favorite hymn lyrics. “When peace like a river attendeth my way. When sorrows like sea billows roll, whatever my lot, thou has taught me to say it is well, it is well with my soul.”
In case you haven’t noticed yet, it is my tendency to pick up on the small pieces, the in between spaces of the lessons each week. To notice the gum under the counter, if you will, as the unattended and often unnoticed areas of our readings. We can all see and hear the big things happening in the gospel this morning. Making 5 loaves and 2 fish enough for 5,000 men and calming waves in the sea. I wonder though if you noticed the waves and the moments of calm, the moments that Jesus fills the gaps and eases the difficult moments? The small spaces where only God can fit and fill a need?
So did you notice that they only counted the men? No women or children? Yet they were present, too and they were hungry as well. They were used to not being noticed or of value. Except Jesus saw them and he valued them. He healed bleeding women and dying daughters as often as he healed men of social value. He taught the disciples to value the hearts and minds of little children because they are pure and worthy of notice. And when they were there on that hillside, hungry and lacking resources, Jesus was there. He fed them, not just with crumbs, but with plenty. He fed their stomachs and he fed their hearts and souls by seeing them as precious and worthy of being fed.
Later, when everyone gets caught up in fear of Rome and desire to be free, Jesus is there. Or rather, he leaves so that he can give them what they need- which is not another king to rule over them with power, but a Messiah who will deliver them from the powers of this world and grant them true life. This scene will play out several times before he finally dies, and is a significant part of our Holy week narrative. And there too, Christ sees what we need most. Even though he is welcomed with waving palms and cloak strewn streets, he understands we need deliverance from our fears, not a ruler over our bodies. And he chooses death on the cross to give us what we need most.
And again, in the boat, surrounded by swells and storms, in fear and crying out, Jesus is there. Once again, he fills a need. He speaks to the waves and calms them. He tells the disciples they are not alone, not to fear, and then delivers them to safety. Jesus is in the small spaces. He is in the moment that the people are tired of standing so he tells the disciples to have them sit. He is in the bread that suddenly becomes enough to feed around what scholars reckon to be about 18,000 people. He was with disciples who were trying to figure out how to feed all these people when Jesus commanded them to do so.
He was with Anna as she sent that horrific telegram and struggled to breath each moment, having lost all 5 of her children, 4 at once and with Horatio as his ship skimmed the surface of his daughter’s watery grave. And he is here with us in the movement of the Holy Spirit still. Christ is in the moments of our lives that are exhausting and good, and also exhausting and hard. He is here in the fun and joy of VBS and he is here in the moments of grief and anguish. He speaks to the waves of life, Peace, be still, and when the waves will not be calmed, but our hearts need soothing, he is balm to our hearts, reminding us that he is with us, in the small places.
I am grateful for a God who will go to the small spaces to fit in among the big things of life. Our God, who will make godself small and will suffer death and humiliation for me and my sin. Our God, Who sees your value and pays the priceless ransom for your soul. Our God, who comes to us in the small spaces in ways we cannot comprehend and fills us with just what we need when we need it.
The Bible never said God will not give you more than you can handle. But it does say that WITH God, we candle accomplish and handle anything. God comes to us, always, coming to us, with love and compassion, with mercy and justice, with hope and salvation to deliver us and nourish us for the exhausting moments of life, both good and bad. God is here. Among us now.
As you come to the table today, whether this is a moment of peace and restoration or a time of expended energy, ponder anew the wonder of our God who will make Godself as small as a baby to meet our needs. Who will bless the bread and make it enough for us. Who will gather us as one to nourish us as community together and who is the God of abundance in big and small ways in all things that truly matter: love, mercy and grace.